


True Blue

by Lucifuge5



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: fanbingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>So Frannie's the rookie of the Major Crimes department. So what?</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	True Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the AU - Free Form square of Fanbingo. Betaed by Mizface. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

The Lieutenant's door opens with a loud swoosh.

"Vecchio! I want to see you in my office sometime in the next five minutes!" Lieutenant Kowalski yells before shutting her office door with a near slam. A few seconds later, she flings it open once more. "And bring the Mountie with you!"

Off to her right, Frannie sees Irene poke Andreas' side with her right index finger hard enough to stop that damn giggling. Having him as a working partner must not be easy.

Right after that, Irene focuses her baby blues back at Frannie and slides her thumb against the side of her nose. Frannie jerks her chin in reply. Everyone talks about the brothers in blue, but never about the _sisters_.

So Frannie's the rookie of the Major Crimes department. So what? It doesn't matter, it _shouldn't_ matter. Not after having to work her tush through the Academy, getting a few arrests under her belt (while wearing the police hat _in public_ ) and passing the Detective's exam (with shiny colors, thank you very much!). And that's not even mentioning the occasional sexist bozo who thinks that little ol' Frannie from Octavia Avenue has no place in the 27th.

On top of which, it isn't her fault she has a wacky, possibly certifiable, Mountie for a partner.

She quickly finishes up typing the last paragraph in her report, and then takes off her glasses. Though proud she didn't jump in surprise when the Lieu called for her and her partner, there's a small riot sparking up in her stomach. Looking across her desk, she's hoping for some reassurance from Turnbull.

"We don't have that many open cases, right?"

Turnbull puts down his copy of International Gourmet magazine and squints at the floral scarf Frannie has tied around her neck. "The Lieutenant could ask us about the Morin B&E or the De Rios Jewelry hold-up, Francesca."

"Or she might go with something more recent," Frannie says after considering what they've been working on. She pushes her chair away from her desk. "We're ready?"

"Yes, Francesca, we are." He gives her two thumbs up. He looks more comical than encouraging. But his smile is genuine and that calms her down for a second or two.

Frannie nods at him and starts to make her way through the Major Crimes department. For a moment, it's as if she's traveled back in time and is being called to the Director's office at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart.

"You wanted to see us?" she asks after knocking on the Lieutenant's door.

"Come on in," Lieutenant Kowalski answers.

As soon as they're inside, Turnbull stands up so straight he looks like a statue. His eyes, however, dart between Frannie (who might not be doing the same iron bar pose as her partner, but who at least isn't slouching) and the Lieutenant (who is signing what looks like vacation requests.)

Frannie mentally crosses her fingers. Just last Friday, Tony told her about a friend of his who could get her good prices for a cruise to Jamaica. Soon as the mall opened the next day, she hit every department store until she found the magenta bikini of her _dreams_.

"Give me a sec," Lieutenant Kowalski grumbles, shaking her head at a request form before moving to the next one.

Frannie studies the expensive cut of the Lieutenant's off-white, ¾ sleeve shirt and how it gives her an air of authority Frannie wishes she could emulate. Lieutenant Kowalski, who's classy enough to go the hair salon instead of the _beauty shop_ and feminine in an understated way, would've made a great lawyer, Frannie thinks. She's tough but fair. And maybe it's a woman-thing, but Frannie is almost sure that she could've gotten away with wearing shorter shirts to work if the Lieu had been a man instead.

"Where are you on the Gomez death?" Lieutenant Kowalski asks as she places the rest of the signed requests ( _hello, Ocho Rios!_ Frannie announces inside her head) on the OUT box before leaning back on her chair.

Frannie makes a slow so-so gesture with her hands. "No priors, no enemies and no suspicious activities we could find. Obviously, his ticket has been punched. We have an idea of how it was done, but there are some details that need looking over."

Lieutenant Kowalski raises an eyebrow. "Have you spoken to your brother, Detective Vecchio?"

"You mean at the morgue?" Frannie gulps. Why Ray chose to become a Pathologist will forever remain a mystery. Not even their father--and he's been dead for _years_ \--has been able to answer that. "Um, no--"

Turnbull clears his throat. "We haven't met with Dr. Vecchio since after the initial examination. However, we did phone him once we had the preliminary report. He stated that he's awaiting results on some abnormalities from the stomach tissue."

"Abnormalities?" Lieutenant Kowalski says; her tone clearly implies a 'you better not go off in one of your soliloquies about Canadian singer songwriters or else'.

"You see, Lieutenant," Turnbull answers, seemingly oblivious to Lieutenant Kowalski's veiled warning, "when we interviewed Mr. Gomez's widow, she insisted that her husband had just flown back from Paris . . ."

"Yes!" Frannie jumps in. "She kept talking about all that French chocolate and something about the cheese--"

"Exactly," Turnbull says, pointing his right index finger at Frannie. "The _cheese_." He taps his nose.

Now that she's found the groove Turnbull was on, Frannie grins. "The widow Gomez made a lot of noise about her husband not bringing her any, um. . ." she frowns at Turnbull. This is the worst moment to have left her notebook on her desk. " Vasilli? Vichyssoise? "

"I believe the term she used was _Vacherin_ ," Turnbull says triumphantly. "But that doesn't make sense."

"You gotta hear this, Lieu." Frannie nods at Turnbull, ceding the floor to him. Sometimes, it's great to have a cheese enthusiast for a partner.

"Go ahead, Constable," Lieutenant Kowalski says, lacing her fingers. "Enlighten me."

"It's June 29th," Turnbull says as he points at the Lieutenant's desk calendar. " _Vacherin_ is only available from fall through early spring."

"Uh-huh." Frannie puts her hands on her hips. "I knew she was lying."

"How's that, Detective?" Lieutenant Kowalski looks a little confused.

"Well," Frannie says, waving her hands in the air, "when I mentioned how much I liked this wide, peacock green belt she was wearing, she went on and on about her husband had bought it for her at one of those super-fancy French designer stores, right? Only, it was less high-class and more, um, pleather knock-off."

Lieutenant Kowalski cracks a smile.

"I should know," Frannie goes on. "Maria bought the very same one about two weeks ago. And she won't lend it to me." She pouts for a second. "Anyway, we believe Mrs. Gomez and or her accomplice poisoned her husband."

"OK," Lieutenant Kowalski says, her left eyebrow raised to a peak, "so you're going with murder."

"Oh, most definitely, Lieutenant," Turnbull adds. "Whatever poison was used has a few compounds that's connected to bacteria found in cheese cultures."

Lieutenant Kowalski nods. "Which is where Dr. Vecchio's results come in. Got it. So, what's the motive?"

"Money?" Frannie says. "Sandor, Mr. Gomez' assistant, sort of hinted that his late boss was in talks with his attorneys to change his will, assigning a new-and-unknown-to-Mrs.Gomez-beneficiary."

"He was going to cut off his wife?"

Frannie shrugs. "Maybe. Sandor didn't spill everything, but he _did_ tell us there hadn't been a prenup."

"We could find out more if we had a search warrant or two," Turnbull hedges.

Frannie bites her lower lip. Not for nothing Turnbull is the top poker player in the whole department.

"Commander Besbriss wants this solved as swiftly and neatly as possible." Lieutenant Kowalski sits up. "OK, go check with Vecchio at the morgue. Meanwhile, I'll call ADA Welsh about your warrant. Someone with Mr. Gomez's deep pockets and political connections must have had a few things worth digging up."

"We will get right on it, Lieutenant. Excuse us," Turnbull says, turning around and heading to the door.

Frannie follows him back to the chaos of the bullpen. "Hey, Turnbull, isn't almost time for you to go on guard duty? I can drop you off after we leave the morgue," she says once they are back to her desk.

Turnbull shakes his head after he puts on his Stetson. "Inspector Fraser assigned Constable Thatcher today. Anyway, um, I mean--"

"What?" Frannie picks up her notebook and slides it inside her jacket pocket. At Turnbull's silence, she looks up (she has this suspicion that all Canadians are tall. Even _Thatcher_ stands a few inches higher than her). "Come on, I'm trying to forget that, in just a little while, we'll be freezing our butts while surrounded by cadavers."

Turnbull clears his throat. "Sorry. Um, the Inspector did mention that Detective Kowalski bought the second season of _Time Punchers_ on DVD. He'd let me borrow the set if either of us wanted to watch it."

"Kowalski?" Frannie grimaces. " _I.A. Kowalski_?"

"Yes, Francesca, the very same," Turnbull answers casually. "You do remember that he and the Inspector are close friends."

"How did those two even meet, I wonder."

"I wouldn't have the faintest idea." Turnbull brushes down his tunic. "But Inspector Fraser is an honourable man. He would be the _last_ person to be acquainted with someone who'd be, as you Americans put it, 'crooked'." He makes a face at the OUT OF ORDER sign on the elevator doors.

Frannie pats Turnbull on the back before heading to the stairs. "Forget about my bitching. I know not all I.A.s are, you know, _evil_. It's just a little funny. You know, Irene once told me that Kowalski would've been great doing undercover."

" _You_ could've gone into doing undercover, Francesca."

"Yeah, well, the pay is good. Imagine how many Ariadna shoes I could buy." Frannie smiles for a moment. "I just don't think I would've been OK with lying to everyone including my priest. Anyway, I hope you're not joking about the DVDs. Because you know there's no way I'd say no to the opportunity to watch Season 2 of _Time Punchers_!"

"Inspector Fraser did warn me that the DVDs were dubbed in Armenian, but that English captions are available."

"Well," Frannie says as they turn left, "as long as we find out whether Nick punched out time or not, I'm in."

"Excellent," Turnbull replies, "Perhaps I can bake chicken lasagna. Huey and Gardino's grocery should be getting their shipment of buffalo mozzarella this Thursday."

"It's so sad that you can cook tastier Italian food than me, Turnbull," Frannie sighs. "Sometimes I think Ma wishes you were her son so she could pass Nana's recipes on to you."

"Oh, will you look at that?" Turnbull says once they reach the doors marked MORGUE.

"The sooner we're in, the sooner we can get this over with. Lead on, MacGuyver," Frannie says as she pushes Turnbull forward.

THE END.


End file.
